Passing Memories
by Lisa15
Summary: Tom has a visitor from the past, bringing with him memories and ghosts. Missing scene for s10e06.


_"_ _The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared._ " - Lois Lowry, The Giver

He opens the door and knows instinctively that someone is in there. There is no particular clue, no single piece of evidence that gives away the presence of an intruder in his home. But he knows there is one. Carefully he reaches for the cricket bat stood by the door and raises it. It is a crude weapon, but its the nearest thing and it will do. Grasping the bat firmly he silently steps along the hallway towards the door.

"Put it down, Tom," says a familiar voice wearily, "I come in peace."

As Tom lowers the bat Harry holds up a bottle of scotch.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Fetch some glasses and I'll explain."

Tom goes to the kitchen and returns with the glasses. He hands one to Harry and holds one himself. He watches in astonishment as the older man's hand shakes slightly as he pours.

Finally, drinks poured, they both drink silently for a moment.

"So?" asks Tom.

"I have a job for a private contractor." Harry tells him. "For you."

"What sort of job?"

"One well within your skill set." Harry hesitates a moment and they hear the front door open.

A woman appears in the entrance to the room, a little girl clutching her hand.

"Hello," she smiles,"I didn't realise you had company."

"This is - er -" Tom hesitates, unsure what name he should give for his unexpected guest.

"Harry," the man himself says, getting to his feet, "An old friend of Tom's. Its a pleasure to meet you Mrs Quinn." He shakes her hand and then bends down, "And this must be Helen, its lovely to meet you too."

The girl smiles shyly at Harry, while her mother's eyes flick quickly between him and Tom.

"We'll leave you in peace," she says, looking knowingly at Tom, "Come along, Helen."

They leave the room and she pulls the door closed behind them.

"How do you know my daughter's name?" demands Tom, "Have you been doing some kind of checks on me, Harry?"

The older man shakes his head and sinks back into his seat with a single word, "Ruth."

"Ruth?"

Harry stares at his glass for a moment. "I know your daughter's name because Ruth told me." He looks up at Tom and says, "You remember Ruth, don't you, Tom?"

"Of course," Tom grins despite himself. Of course he remembers Ruth, clumsy, brilliant, gentle Ruth. Ruth, who had been so grateful for a second chance when he caught her out as a GCHQ mole. Ruth, who had been a rock through a very traumatic EERIE exercise. A bit of light in a dark world.

"She's been keeping an eye on you, Tom," Harry tells him, "Not professionally, of course, just because she wanted to know you were alright. In all honesty, I didn't know she was doing it, not for a long time anyway. I'd have stopped her if I had."

"It's okay," Tom is still smiling at the thought of Ruth watching over him. "How is she?" he risks asking, although he know Harry can't answer the question. "And Zoe and Danny?"

Harry's face falls as he looks to his glass again. Tom feels suddenly sick in the pit of his stomach.

"No," he whispers, "Not Zoe and Danny."

Harry tilts his glass from side to side, seemingly deliberating with himself.

"Zoe's gone," he says finally, "But she's okay. She had to leave - leave the service and leave the country. But there was a man, a man she loved, and in the end he went with her and I believe - I hope - that they are happy."

"And Danny?" Tom asks hesitantly, not sure he wants to hear the answer.

Harry looks him straight in the eye, "Dead," he says with finality, "A brave death, if that makes any difference - I'm not sure it does anymore." He pauses, his eyes returning to his glass, and then continues, "He was taken along with Fiona, Adam Carter's wife. He deliberately antagonised their captors when they were about to kill her and died in her place. A heroic sacrifice," he finishes bitterly, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

Tom stares, trying to take in what he is hearing. Trying also to take in this emotional Harry, broken by the loss of a colleague.

"I'd like to attend his funeral," he says finally, "He was a friend, Harry, a true friend, I'd like to say a proper goodbye."

Harry stares at him for a moment, and Tom waits for him to protest, to raise protocols and procedures, to tell Tom that he lost the right to mourn his former colleagues when he walked away. But Harry says none of that.

Instead he says slowly, "Tom, Danny's funeral was years ago, he died years ago."

Tom stares experiencing a mix of emotions, disbelief caught up with continuing grief. Why is Harry telling him this now? And why is Harry looking so devastated, barely keeping himself from crying? Its not that Tom thinks Harry incapable of feeling emotion at the loss of his colleagues, despite their past disputes, Tom had always respected Harry and doesn't doubt that the man is compassionate and fond of his team. In fact, Harry's farewell to Tom, all those years ago, had been filled with compassion, sending Tom out into the world with hope for what might lay ahead, rather than despair at what was past. And yet. And yet Harry is a Spook who had lost people before. He would not still be in mourning for Danny now.

Suddenly Tom realizes that silence has filled the room. They have both been silent for too long.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, sadly, "He was so young, so much ahead of him." He pauses, "I liked to think of you all still there," he adds, "To imagine you were all carrying on as before, just without me."

Harry doesn't meet his eyes.

"Did Adam stay?" Tom asks suddenly, " After I left?"

He remembers Adam, strong and determined, but at the same time carrying the burdens of the job so lightly, with such humour, such optimism. In the end Tom had envied that, envied the moral certainty that seemed to underlie Adam's cheerful confidence.

"He stayed," says Harry wearily, refilling his glass as he speaks, "And Fiona stayed. Until they died."

"Both of them?"

"Fiona first," sighs Harry, "Adam a few years later." He takes another sip of his drink.

Tom doesn't know what to say. Suddenly Harry has stopped being someone he recognises. He is no longer the fearless, resolute leader of Tom's memories. Now he is an old man, slumped on Tom's couch and unpacking an apparently endless collection of ghosts that are carried with him.

Tom pulls up a chair and takes a seat, bringing himself down to Harry's eye level.

"I'm sorry, Harry," he says, "You've lost a lot of good people."

"You have no idea," Harry tells him sadly, "There are so many more, people you never knew. They came after you, and now they're dead too." He looks earnestly into Tom's face, "You're lucky you left when you did, Tom. I should have left sooner."

Tom's expression changes, "Have you left the service, Harry?"

He is surprised. He couldn't envisage Harry ever walking away, retiring. If he'd thought about it at all, he would have assumed that Harry would only ever have left Thames House in a wooden box.

"Ruth asked me to," Harry tells his glass, a small smile playing with his lips,"With her."

"You and Ruth!" Now Tom is astonished, but also a little amused too. "Does that mean she wasn't entirely lying to that poor nurse?"

Harry looks up at him sharply, "What poor nurse?"

Tom grins, recalling how Ruth had whispered the story to him after his return to Thames House, half-embarrassed, half filled with pride.

"After," he hesitates, "After I shot you, Ruth needed to get a message to you in the hospital about Mace, but his men were keeping you under lock and key. Ruth persuaded a nurse to bring you a note in Morse code."

"I remember," says Harry, nodding for Tom to go on, as he again refills his glass.

"When simple bribery wasn't working she told the nurse that you were lovers and she was having your child!"

Harry stares, "She never told me that."

"Probably embarrassed," smirks Tom, "Were you together back then?"

"No," Harry tells him, "She was just, just Ruth then." He smiles, "She was always special though. Do you remember how she was back then, when she was still enthusiastic and hopeful? And still herself - so warm, kind, clever, funny..." Harry's eyes were sparkling slightly at the memories.

"I remember," Tom replies, also smiling, with some slight amusement at his besotted former boss, "She was quite a breath of fresh air on the grid. So excited about everything. But always a good, moral person too."

"But not naive," says Harry suddenly, determinedly, "Never naive."

Tom shakes his head, sensing that this point is important to Harry, "Not at all. She's too smart for that. She was a marvel – the things she knew, the intel she could unearth and piece together."

"She's truly wonderful," sighs Harry.

Tom smiles, "You're a lucky man, Harry."

Harry's attention returns to his glass. "We wasted so much time," he tells it sadly, "Took so long to really find each other."

He looks up at Tom, "She was kidnapped, many years ago, before Danny died. A 'techno freak' working with us was responsible for these – cyber-attacks. Poor Ruth actually quite liked him, I think, but then she worked out that he was responsible and he kidnapped her. He sent Sam a text saying she was ill and I believed it, fool that I was, I believed Ruth would just text in and stay home."

Tom watches his boss silently and then prompts the end of the story, "What happened?"

"Danny... it was Danny who realised there was something wrong with that story, realised she was in trouble." Harry takes a deep breath, and another sip of his drink. "And that was when I realised... how I felt, how I couldn't imagine being without her," Harry inhales deeply and takes a larger sip of his drink.

"Did you tell her?" Tom asks, struggling to find his footing in this conversation with such a strangely open Harry.

"Not then." Harry sighs, "Not for a long time. I tried to tell her how I felt about her once, but..." he shook his head. "There was this conspiracy - trying to get me to agree, to support rendition, torture...they used Ruth to get at me." He looks intently at his former colleague, "I wanted to save her, Tom, I would have done anything almost anything to save her. I was ready to go to prison for her, and then..."

"And then?" Tom prompts, realising Harry needs to tell him all this, even if he can't understand why.

"She saved me instead. Gave up everything and went into exile."

"Harry, I'm sorry," says Tom simply, imagining the pain of his boss. Perhaps this is what he needs to share. "Was that when she asked you to leave the service with her?"

Harry shakes his head, "No," he says, "She wanted me to stay and fight. She - she sacrificed herself so that I could. I saw her before she left, I tried to tell her how I felt but she - she wouldn't let me." Harry's eyes were now on the floor. "Our first kiss, and then she was gone."

The emptiness in Harry's voice startles Tom.

"Have you ever seen her since?"

"Yes, yes - of course. She came back, Tom. She was - kidnapped, forced to come back - because of me. She lost the life she'd made for herself - because of me. But she was back. Back on the grid, back with me," Harry's voice shook, "Where she belongs."

"Harry?" Tom's voice is filled with concern, he can see the tears in the older man's eyes.

Harry looks up suddenly, his face filled with a desperation that shocks Tom. "She asked me to leave the service with her yesterday."

Tom remains silently watching him, afraid of what is to come.

"And then she died."

"Ruth's dead?"

Harry nods and then he puts his head in his hand and begins to weep brokenly.

Tom gently prises the glass from his other hand and ineffectually pats his shoulder as he weeps. An emotional Harry is not something he has ever had to cope with and he feels desperately ill-equipped. He can only think of one person who might have been able to deal with this, but her absence is the cause of Harry's tears. In his head he sees Ruth, her bright enthusiastic smile, her delight at having found a clue, a source, a crucial piece of Intel. He remembers her leaning into him during that scary day on the grid, a challenging look in her eyes as she demands, 'What are you saying? On the head of the king let all the sorrows lie?'

"I'm so sorry, Harry," he says finally, brokenly, "So sorry. She was..."

Harry raises his head, wiping tears from his face, "Ruth," he says, "She was my perfect, precious Ruth."

Tom nods numbly as Harry takes a breath, composing himself back to the strong, stern leader of spies.

"There was this woman," Harry says, and his voice is dull and lifeless now, as though the tears have drained all of his emotions. "I thought she was an asset of mine during the Cold War, but she was playing me the whole time. She came to London, and still she played me - she was a Russian nationalist, working for a group back in Russia. And even once I knew what she had done and how she had played me, I still couldn't see though her. I nearly had a passenger plane shot out of the sky because of her, Tom. I would have, if Ruth hadn't seen it." He shakes his head, "Ruth."

With no idea of what to say, Tom instead refills Harry's glass and hands it back to him.

Harry takes a sip and continues. "The woman died," he says, "Her husband. Her son witnessed it and blamed me for her death. He came for revenge while I was with Ruth, while she was asking me... to be with her. I tried to send her away, but she wouldn't go. He wanted revenge and she wouldn't go. It was meant for me, Tom, he meant to kill me, but she - she..."

"She loved you." Tom says softly, understanding how the story ends.

"I love her," Harry says insistently, as though the sheer force of his feelings might have a hope of bringing her back.

They sit in silence for a long time, it feels as though there is nothing more to be said. Finally the whisky bottle is empty and darkness has descended on the room.

The sound of footsteps approaches the closed door. A small voice calls, "Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, darling," Tom manages to call back, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

The footsteps pass on up the staircase.

"I should leave you in peace," says Harry, getting wearily to his feet.

"Harry -"

"The job I wanted to give you."

"The son?" guesses Tom, "The one who…" He can't finish the sentence.

Harry shakes his head. "He was detained at the time. And he was – he suffered, his mother …" Harry takes a breath, "Sometimes I hate him, but sometimes – sometimes I actually pity him. And she would have pitied him, Tom – my Ruth, she would have felt sorry for him, the way his mother betrayed him too…"

Tom nods, "So?" he asks.

"The Russian nationalists," Harry says, his voice suddenly hard, the ruthless edge creeping in, "The ones who started the whole thing. They were prepared to have a passenger plane shot out of the sky, they killed good people, and they caused – they caused…"

Tom nods, understanding, "Give me the details and I'll take care of it."

Harry reaches for a briefcase and takes out a folder of papers. He holds it out to Tom, who takes it without breaking eye contact.

"Thank you," says Harry softly.

Tom just nods.

"How would you like payment?"

"I don't want payment, Harry. This is for Ruth."

It is Harry's turn to nod, a sad smile on his face as he does.

"Thank you, Tom. That's why I came to you. I needed it to be someone who really knew her, who could understand. The new team - they liked her, of course, and they respected her, but, she's been... closed off, everything that happened to her, everything she saw. I needed someone who knows my Ruth, my clever, funny, loving Ruth, who gave me hope..."

Tom puts a hand on his shoulder, "I've never forgotten her, Harry, not in all these years."

Harry smiles suddenly, "You convinced me to keep her on, do you remember?"

Tom nods.

"You said we needed her, for her brains and her strength and her morals."

"I remember," Tom says quietly. "It was after that EERIE exercise, when she held it together," he paused, "Held me together."

"You said that I could rely on her completely, and one day I might need that. And you were right. I have relied on her completely, for so so long..."

"Harry..."

"I should go." Harry heads for the door, "My number's in the file. You'll let me know when its done?"

"Of course."

Harry responds with his most businesslike nod and prepares to leave. As he opens the front door he turns back to Tom, a sudden softness to his expression.

"Be happy, won't you, Tom," he says gently, "She so wanted you to be happy."

Tom blinks back the tears.

"I'll do my best," he promises. "What will you do now, Harry?"

Harry pauses on the threshold, "Back to work," he replies brusquely.

"Are you sure?"

"I have nothing to leave for anymore."

Tom watches the door closing behind him desperately hoping that he heard right, that Harry did just say 'leave'.

Then Tom turns back into his house, leans his back against the front door and conjures up a memory, so vivid it feels almost real. It is the day he returned to the grid after his faked death, alive and exonerated. He recalls stepping through the pods alongside Harry, and seeing three precious smiling faces turn to greet them. His Zoe, his Danny, his Ruth - his team. In his mind they are forever as they were, smiling and happy and together.


End file.
